Handcrafted Films

Lady the Gloucester Old Spot

Filmed earlier this week down in rural Cornwall we had the pleasure of meeting Lady, a full grown Gloucester Old Spot, who was willing to play a part on camera for a certain price – namely food pellets.

Project Green: Grease Lighting No.2

We are led through a procession of passageways, slowly working our way down into the basement levels. The passageways are all lit with different coloured bulbs; orange, red, green, purple. The effect is not dissimilar to a submarine control room or an underground bunker. This however is no military craft or installation, far from it, […]

Project Green: House Clearer – Introducing George

Last week I walked to see Peter, our main character, on two separate occasions and with every step my heart sank deeper. I arrived at his shop on Tuesday to remind him of the conversation we had about our short documentary. I was full of smiles but I could tell in his demeanor that he […]

Project Green: Grease Lighting

We have just returned from an interesting recce to Uptown Oils in South London near the historic regions of Borough and Southwark, the world of Shakespeare, the foggy swirling Thames (although it has shimmered almost invitingly in the heat wave of the past few days) and the famous wholesale fruit and vegetable market. Uptown Oils […]

A long drive through Liberia

River Cess County back to Monrovia is usually a one day journey over terrible roads. It became portentously longer when the jeep started to play up on our last day of filming. Water was gushing from the engine. In an opportunistic fashion we went scavenging at every opportunity for spare parts. In West Africa lorries, cars and motorcycles are usually driven until they fall apart. They subsequently go through a period of repair, falling apart, repair. This continues until the vehicle literally stops and refuses, like some sad exhausted donkey, to move again. However this seldom dissuades the ingenuity and resourcefulness of the African mechanic who see’s not a wrecked hulk of machinery but instead a ready supply of spare parts, be it a carburetter or some simple nuts and bolts.

The worst airport in the world

Ouessa airport in the Republic of Congo earns its award as the worst airport in the world for one simple reason…it’s not really there. Well it is there, only its wrapped in tape, sealed from the outside world.

The Intercontinental Hotel

One goes through a process of heckling the Nigerian peacekeepers who protect the building and lounge around in the old lobby, their equipment spread about them as though they themselves are newly arrived guests awaiting the doormen and staff to carry their gear in through the foyer. After the usual talk and introductions they wave us through the protective cordon and we are free to wander about the vast crumbling emptiness.

Mae Sot

Mae Sot the border town between Thailand and Burma is a weird place. The town, despite being in Thailand, is mostly populated by Burmese. It stands at one of the few international land crossing points, the main crossing being a heavily fortified concrete bridge across a narrow litter strewn river. The crossing is merely a symbol of official recalcitrant between the two countries. It certainly offers no control over the contraband which freely flows beneath it.

Wassa Akropong, Western Province, Ghana

Wassa Akropong is a pleasant little town hidden in the lush green of Western Province Ghana. Its main street seemed, at all hours including long into the night, to be filled with the cheery hustle and bustle of a busy market. All manner of produce was available from the makeshift stalls, kiosks and counters. Live poultry competed with great stacks of smoked fish; bags of peppers and black-eyed peas nestled amongst roped bundles of sweet potato and cassava leaves; there were mobile phone top-up cards and greasy bottles of clearly diluted kerosene; plastic household commodities alongside traditional brightly coloured kente cloth.

Scary landing in Borneo

The aircraft dipped its wings dropping through the cloud and there below us was the coastline of southern Borneo. Fleetingly I glimpsed a muddy estuary its broad entrance dotted with small fishing boats and larger cumbersome container vessels. Rivers and smaller tributaries reddish-brown with soil converged and emptied into this broad sluggish waterway. Inland the estuary curled and twisted into an ever narrowing corridor, here and there, spread sporadically along its meandering swampy shore were small wooden houses propped on rafts and stilts.